


In the Trenches

by dc_plus_marvel



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Relationship, and they were ROOMMATES, omg they were roommates, yup they're just friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dc_plus_marvel/pseuds/dc_plus_marvel
Summary: REQUEST: hi!! can you pls write a medium angsty platonic gender neutral reader insert with steve rogers? maybe a fic involving civil war, idk 🤷♀️ (hi cas and soph!!👋love your blog)





	In the Trenches

**Author's Note:**

> by mod cas

Steve is your friend. Your best friend, actually. He’s also your roommate. This is always the start to a great story, right? Wrong.

Steve walks in the door of our shared apartment, late. Later than most late nights. I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, arms crossed, angry. “It’s midnight, Steve. Where were you? For the last two days?” Steve is surprised that I’m up. I’m surprised I’m up still, too. “I was on a plane, sorry. Urgent business in Germany.” He responds, coolly. I raise my eyebrows in shock. “Germany? What the hell? Why were you there?” He looks at the ground. Uh-oh, that’s his ‘I’m about to lie’ thing. “Urgent business.” A flat response. Great. “Steve,” I say, anger spiking my voice. “Who were you fighting?” Steve sighed and closed his eyes. “Tony and I had a slight disagreement, and-“ I cut him off. “Tony? Did you fight Tony? He’s your teammate, Rogers!” I use his last name, almost yelling. “You need to stop doing stupid shit like fighting your own damn teammates, or one of these days, you’re gonna get killed.” I finish my sentence, making it clear that Steve is either going to take this well or not at all. Steve has known me long enough to just take it well. “I know, but listen, he wanted to-“ “Shut up. Just… Shut up. I don’t care about him. I need a minute.” I say, standing and walking to the sink. I wash my hands and dry them, for no real reason other than to keep my back turned to Steve. “Do you even care, Y/N?” Steve asks, voice slightly raised. He knows how to push my buttons, and that’s one of them. “Is that how little you think of me?” I turn, yelling now. I know I’m not just aggravated because of Steve’s stupid actions, but he’s definitely the cause of some of my anger. “I’m your friend! Of course, I care! I live with you, for God’s sake!” “Then why don’t you listen?” He snaps back. Why are we both so mad? I take a few breaths in and try to keep my cool. “Steve, listen. I just need to know what’s going on. I want to know where those bruises came from, I want to know where in the world you are, and I-“ He’s obviously angry at this point. “You’re not my partner or my parent! Stop talking!” He yells out. I stand in silence for a couple of seconds, then storm off to my room. I can hear him breathing heavily out in the small living room. He’s doing pushups, of course, because that’s how he lets loose when he’s angry. Me? I grab the nearest pillow and let out a scream. Steve stops, and I hear footsteps creaking towards my door. After a couple of seconds, he walks away. I can feel my temperature lowering again, heart pumping slower. I’m slowly calming down. 

“Rogers, listen, I…” I walk out of my room, but notice Steve is asleep on the sofa. He’s still sweaty, his bruises are a deep purple, and he’d taken his shirt off, but he was deep in sleep already. I don’t know how long I’d been in my room, but it was long enough for him to have made a small puddle of drool on his pillow. “I’m sorry I lost my cool. It’s just that…” I sigh, grabbing a blanket off the back of the chair next to me. “You’re my best friend, and I care about you. When you don’t tell me things, or ask for advice, or anything… I feel like you don’t trust me. And I trust you completely, and that’s not fair. I’, sorry, Steve.” I gently drape the blanket over him and turn the overhead light off. He’ll wake up eventually and just go to bed. I leave him there and head to bed myself, quietly closing my door behind me. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out. 

I wake up to the light coming through my open blinds, and a hot coffee on my nightstand. “Thanks for the blanket. Be back at noon.” I read the note that sat beside the coffee and cried a little I picked up my camera and fiddled with the settings before setting it back down on my nightstand, deep in thought. Even when he’s mad, he’s still a good friend. I got up and got dressed, making myself look semi-presentable, and I took the coffee into the kitchen. There’s a waffle on a plate with butter and syrup next to it sitting on the table. I sit down and dig in. I think while I eat, and I think about Steve. He doesn’t even know I apologized last night. All he knows is that I was mad as hell, and he was too. And he still took the time to get me breakfast and make me a coffee. Why? Is he manipulating me? What is his goal? I sit and eat, quiet and confused. It’s about 7:00 AM, I notice. Usually, Steve leaves at 6:00, but the coffee still being hot would have to make that 6:30. Steve never leaves late, though. I process this, and I come to the conclusion that something truly awful must have happened in Germany to make Steve that tired. As I think about Germany and Tony, I clean up my plate. After, I head to my room again and get out my laptop. I live off of my blog, and honestly, there hasn’t been much to blog about. I click onto my website and look at recent stats, noticing a slight decrease in readers over the last month. God, that sucks. I open up my drafts and click on a pre-written article from last month. “Roommate living: some tips on moving in with a friend.” Yeah, I’m great at living with my best friend, I think. I quickly read through and change a couple of things, just small mistakes, and click post. No views happen in the next five minutes, just me, staring at my computer screen. Suddenly, it’s 8:00, and I realize I’ve been in a YouTube rabbit-hole. I close out of the tab and walk into the bathroom. I haven’t actually showered in the last two days, because I’ve been so worried about Steve that I forgot to take care of myself. I hop into the shower, wash my face and hair, then step out. After I dry off, I go into my skincare routine and get dressed, and after that, I head back into my room. Light is still pouring into the room, and I take a deep breath in. It’s 9:00. I have a couple of hours before Steve gets back, and I can- 

“Y/n?” Steve calls out, closing the door behind him. “You home?” I roll my eyes and walk into the living room. I see him standing in the kitchen, arms loaded with paper grocery bags, and I run over to help him. “Thanks, y/n.” He looks up from the bags he almost dropped and into my eyes. “Listen… I’m… I’m sorry. I could barely get to sleep last night, because… it doesn’t matter, just… I’m sorry.” Steve goes back to putting away the groceries and I chip in. “It’s okay, I understand. I actually apologized last night, but you were, uh,” I laugh a bit. “You were kind of asleep. I just… actually, this can wait. Let’s go sit on the sofa.” He puts down the food he has in his hands and walks next to you towards the sofa. You sit down and continue. “I realized why I was so mad last night. I just feel like I trust you with everything, Steve, and I feel like you don’t trust me at all.” Steve’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was making you feel like that.” You look down and continue. “And I’ve also realized that I’m kind of dependent on you. I don’t know how to deal with that, actually. I hadn’t showered while you were away, I forgot to eat breakfast while you were gone, and I… obviously, I guess, didn’t clean up anything.” Steve looks around and chuckles a bit, noticing the disarray in the room. “Yeah, I… I guess I didn’t quite realize that, either. I’m sorry, again, y/n. And I want you to know, I don’t want you to be dependent on me. That’s why I got so mad last night, and I’m sorry about that. I don’t want to let you down like I…” Steve trails off. “Like I let Tony down.” He looks almost regretful but then goes back to his steeled demeanor, looking determined. “Can I,” his voice sounds like a shy child’s, “Can I make it up to you?” I look at him and study his face for a second. “Just… trust me, Steve.” So much around me has been broken for the last two days because of, not just him, but for me too. “I’ll try, y/n.”

A few days have gone by since we fought, and I think it’s all going to work out. Except I don’t have the big help on my photography-based blog from Tony anymore.


End file.
